


Out of Bounds

by angeleledhwen (kallistei), eledhwen (kallistei)



Series: Sins of the Mother [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-11-01
Updated: 2002-11-30
Packaged: 2018-02-06 02:51:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 17,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1841578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kallistei/pseuds/angeleledhwen, https://archiveofourown.org/users/kallistei/pseuds/eledhwen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snape and Harry try to deal with the bond.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. September 4th

As the other students rushed to stuff their belongings into their bags and leave the Potions classroom as quickly as possible, Harry leaned over to whisper to Ron, who was sitting at the neighboring desk.

“Hey – why don’t you go on without me?”

“Why?”

“I, er, need to ask Snape something.”

“Sure thing.” Ron tapped the side of his nose secretively. “I’ll tell Hermione you had to do something important… I’ll think of something.” Clearly he thought that Harry’s reasons for wanting to speak to Snape had to do with the fight against Voldemort.While Harry wasn’t about to lie to his friends, or at least not unless it became absolutely necessary, he was not at all averse to allowing them to come to the wrong impression. He certainly wasn’t eager to explain to them the real reason he needed to talk to Snape. Thankfully Ron, as well as everyone else, appeared to have forgotten about Harry’s strange behaviour at the end of last year.  

Once the door had shut behind the rest of the class, Harry walked up to where Snape, who hadn’t appeared to notice him lagging behind, was sorting through the papers on his desk.

“Hey.”

“Harry.”

Harry grinned for no reason that he could determine. “That’s my name.”

“I am aware of that fact. That  _is_  why I used it, after all.”

“Heh.”

“Do you find me  _amusing_?”

“Of course not.” Harry’s smile remained.

Snape ignored that fact. “Very good.”

“So did you ask me to stay behind just so we could enjoy sniping at each other?”

Snape just gave him a look.

“Okay then. What _did_  you have in mind?”

“I did some reading yesterday.”

It was Harry’s turn to say nothing. Snape might have the knowledge Harry needed, but he wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of asking for it.

Eventually the Professor gave in and began, perhaps wanting to simply get the conversation over with.

“Have you noticed anything strange about your attitude to me since your birthday?”

 “Well… no, not really. I mean, I don’t loathe you like I used to, and I finally see that there’s definitely no way you could be working for Voldemort, but I was sort of starting to think that even before the, uh, bond.” Harry decided against mentioning the images of his mother’s feelings he’d acquired over the summer, even though from their previous conversation he thought Snape most probably knew about them already.

“Oh. So you don’t find that talking civilly to me, and laughing at me, rather than taking my comments as the insults I intended, is unusual?”

Well, when he put it like that… “I guess that is unusual.”

“I ‘guess’ that it is, Harry. So is the fact that my carefully-nurtured despising of you has essentially vanished.” Harry noticed that Snape was skimming rather rapidly over that admission, but let it go. “As well as the fact that I have fallen so easily into calling you by your given name. Among other things.” // _Which I really would rather not go into now_.// Harry decided to ignore that unspoken addition.

“So what is it?”

“From what I’ve read, since it was my and your… Lily’s… blood used, essentially the bond is identifying you with her.”

“You mean…” Harry trailed off, unable to complete the sentence. // _You mean I’m starting to feel what she felt for you, and you’re acting like you did around her_.// He was well aware of exactly what their feelings had been.

“Oh dear.”

“Indeed. Although we may fervently hope that is not the case.”

Oh. Snape had caught his train of thought, or been thinking exactly the same thing. Probably the former, since he then came out with “We need to do something about this telepathic aspect of the… bond… as well. It is highly distracting to suddenly become aware of your frankly inane thoughts in the middle of a lesson.”

“Oh, sorry.” Harry let the insult pass. The man was clearly uncomfortable in this situation, and he was willing to make allowances for that. If nothing else, it would probably make him even more uncomfortable. Harry was quite fond of the idea of revenge.

“As much as I would like to blame you for all of this, I must grudgingly admit that it is not your fault.”

Harry smiled openly this time. “That’s almost exactly what you said last time.”

Snape ignored him again. “My reading so far has suggested no solutions. However, I will continue reading, and I suggest you do the same. Although I doubt you will find anything.”

They had been quiet for a little while when Harry had a sudden idea. He thought accidental thoughts as hard as possible, unconsciously leaning slightly forward while trying to catch Snape’s train of thought.

“What  _are_  you trying to do, Harry?”

He jerked upright as if caught red-handed in a crime. So much for acting innocent.

“Oh. Um,” he stammered in a frankly guilty tone. “Can I ask a question?” he finally managed to get out in a rush.

Snape rolled his eyes. “I think you’ll find you just did.”

“Ha, ha. Well?”

“Yes, if that’s what it takes to get you to shut up.”

“Okay. Well.”

“Yes?”

Quietly. “Are you still in love with her?”

Snape looked taken aback. He opened his mouth, then shut it again. After a long pause, he said, surprisingly softly, “I think I need a little time to think about that.”

Harry was rather amazed by that response, as he’d been expecting a sarcastic put-down, but he was even more amazed when Snape added “I will answer it, just not right away. Ask me again another time.”

“Oh. Okay. Saturday maybe?”

“Saturday evening will do. But be careful, Harry. After all, you wouldn’t want your friends to think you want to spend time with the greasy old Potions master. On that note, maybe you should be going.”

“You’re not old, really. Well, not when compared to Dumbledore.”

This time Harry looked just as taken aback as Snape.

“Well. I’m not sure how I should take that.” Snape said finally. “But I do know that your friends will soon be down here accusing me of having kidnapped you, if you don’t go to meet them.”

“Probably.”

“Goodbye, Harry.”

“Bye.”

Harry left, feeling rather ridiculously content considering that he’d just spent the last half hour talking to Snape, and feeling very ridiculously happy at the thought of another talk on Saturday. He valiantly resisted the urge to whistle and refused to look more closely at the reasons for his emotions.


	2. September 6th

Harry dreamed on Thursday night.

He dreamt that a young Severus was brought before Voldemort to be initiated into the Death Eaters.

***

_He could feel the sickness nestling in his belly, as he realized that no matter his choices, he would be, and would be seen to be, bound to a creature more loathsome and truly evil than any ravening beast. He also knew that he had to keep those ‘traitorous’ thoughts hidden as deeply inside as possible. No one knew the true extent of Voldemorts powers and he didn’t at all want to take any chances. He knew, too, that he would have to perform horrendous acts in order to prove his ‘loyalty’. Even the thought that what he was really proving was his loyalty to the Light didn’t help. But there was no turning back. There never had been. Purely by being born a son of his family, he had been given these two choices at this moment – join Voldemort or die. The Headmaster and Lily had changed this choice as much as possible, but the thought of it was still so intolerable. He couldn’t do it._

_He had to. It was too late to change his mind now. It had always been too late._

_He was brought to his knees in front of Voldemort, an innocent prisoner dragged in front of an usurper king to receive the undeserved sentence of execution._

_“Look at me.” It was a command he could not help but obey._

_Severus could feel Voldemort’s gaze, a knife stabbing in through his eyes, somehow felt it sliding off a wall a few layers in. Voldemort blinked once, deliberately, leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers in front of his lips._

_“Very interesting,” was all he said despite the unexpected turn of events, then he gestured to the man standing behind his chair, cloaked and masked like all the others except Severus._

_As the men holding Severus bent him forward until his forehead touched the single step up to Voldemort’s chair, the other man jerked Severus’ left arm upwards and in front of him, sweeping the sleeve of his robe back to expose it better. It hurt, but not a fraction as much as it did a moment later. The a tap of a wand against the inside of his bared forearm and the murmur of a soft phrase made him convulse, the pain sheeting through him like the time he’d spilled acid over his hand. The one and only time he’d allowed his arrogance to let him forgo basic safety wards._

_He was allowed the barest of moments to indulge himself in a whimper of agony – he had no breath for a more emphatic demonstration of the pain. Then he was brought roughly upright and pushed to his place in the circle, a cloak and mask handed to him. He shrugged them on quickly, became anonymous within the circle. Now, he was one of them. He heard not a word of what went on during the rest of that meeting. He was too busy cradling his pain close to his chest, doing all he could to prevent another sound from escaping. His father had been very clear on what the penalty for that would be. The threat of a punishment that would make branding with the Dark Mark ‘seem like the slightest of bee-stings’ was suddenly a far greater deterrent than it had been mere hours ago._

_***_

Harry woke in the early-morning darkness, half-expecting when he tentatively raised his arm before him to see a fresh, livid, brand. He suddenly felt a whole lot more admiration for Snape… or at least Severus, the man who he’d seen in the dream. The man his mother had loved.

_The man he could be learning to love._

He almost managed to convince himself that he’d not had that thought as he forced himself to sleep again.

***

Severus dreamed on Thursday night.

He dreamt that an older Harry was saying goodbye.

***

_They stood in front of a door he recognized, the one that led out from his quarters, close but not quite touching. Stood like friends, like partners. Like lovers._

_“It’s almost time.” They reached for other in unison, fitted together with assurance that spoke of how well they knew each other’s bodies. Severus noted, abstractly, the changes. The dream-Harry was slightly taller than the boy was now, but still a good head shorter than Severus. He was thinner, and held himself with a unique mix of confidence and wariness. When he had spoken, his voice had been a soft tenor, yet it would carry well. Severus knew that from experience. His eyes still showed too much of his thoughts. Love and regret pooled deep in them, looking for a way to overflow._

_Harry's mouth opened, but he just shook his head minutely and closed it again. Severus knew that there was nothing to say. Everything that could be had been already. All that was left now was this – final – touch._

_They leaned together with the ease of long practice, a thousand kisses. Harry’s lips brushed against his, familiar, loved, addictive. A touch he knew so well, a touch he craved more than anything before or since._

_Severus broke away first, said nothing._

_“Goodbye, love. I’ll see you on the other side. I love you.”_

_No. It wasn’t possible. His heart could not be breaking. It had broken years ago, when Lily had married James, had melted into a puddle and flowed out through the pores of his skin, leaving him with nothing but a mechanical pump for his blood where his capacity for the better emotions had been. His heart could not be breaking, because he had none. Even if he did, it certainly would not break because Harry Potter, bane of his existence –_ Harry, his lover, his beloved – _was leaving. Was going to die._

_“I…” Like the last time, with her, he couldn’t say it._

_“It’s okay.” Harry’s smile was understanding but couldn’t hide a trace of bitterness. Severus knew that it wasn’t the first time he had been unable to say it. And that it most definitely wasn’t ‘okay’. It had not been on those other occasions and certainly was not now._

_Harry pulled the door open, slipped his invisibility cloak around him in a practiced motion. The door swung shut, as if a ghost’s intangible hand had closed it. Soon that would be all his Harry was. That thought was the last straw._

_Severus slumped to the floor, his back against the door, and a single tear escaped._ Goodbye Harry. I love you…

***

He awoke in the early-morning darkness, the track of a single tear cool against his cheek. Resentment flared within him. He had not asked for this, not for Lily’s bizarre idea of protection, not for the loss of the control that had grown so valuable to him, not for the return of emotions he no longer needed. He wanted no part of it.

He almost managed to convince himself that he found nothing remotely attractive in the dream-Harry’s touch and his readily expressed love as he forced himself to sleep again.


	3. September 8th

Harry had been avoiding thinking about his dream of Thursday night for the last two days. They’d had another Potions class yesterday, and Snape had ignored him to an astonishing degree. Not only had the teacher not mentioned anything about their ‘problem’, he hadn’t even bothered to make the effort to take points from Gryffindor, let alone insult Harry as much as he usually did. Harry hadn’t even ‘overheard’ any stray thoughts from Snape, despite it being obvious that Snape was thinking rather hard about something, and was acting unusually distracted. It was quite disconcerting in fact, particularly as Harry was trying his utmost to determine whether Snape might have had similar dreams to his own. It was clear that the dream had been a result of the bond – there was no other possible reason for it – and he wanted to know if it was having a similar effect on both of them. He wanted to know if what he had seen was real, but knew that, even given the opportunity, he wouldn’t dare ask. Even the legendary Gryffindor courage only went so far.

All the way through dinner on Saturday, Harry wondered about what Snape would say when they met. He was actually getting rather good at listening to the conversation going on around him with one ear and making the appropriate responses when required, while concentrating on something quite different. Unsurprising, really, when he considered how often he’d been doing a similar thing in the past few months. He told himself repeatedly that the only reason he was interested in Snape’s answer was because it was his mother, and Snape’s feelings for her, that they would be discussing.

***

After dinner, he made some sort of excuse about work that the other Gryffindors accepted, and made his way in the direction of the library. After the O.W.L.s, he’d been allowed to change his subject choices when deciding what to take for his N.E.W.T.s. He’d dropped Divination with relief, and taken up Muggle Studies – living with the Dursleys all those years had to be useful for something – and, at Hermione’s insistence, Arithmancy. New subjects meant more work, but he was surprised by how much he was enjoying them. While he was by no means a Hermione, after the amount of revision he’d done at the end of last year and his O.W.L. results, they were happy to believe that he wanted to keep up his achievements.

As soon as he was out of everyone’s sight, he turned towards the dungeons instead, trying to quell the insane fluttering in his stomach. He couldn’t decide if it was anticipation or fear, and neither of those emotions was one he particularly wanted to face. Although he rather thought he would prefer it to be fear. He wasn’t ready to deal with the consequences of anticipation at all.

He knocked at Snape’s door just as tentatively as he had almost a week earlier, and got an identical response. He cracked open the door cautiously and stepped in. Time to get his answer.

***

“Take a seat, Harry.” Snape said without looking up from his marking. “I’ll be with you in a moment.”

Harry did, and a few minutes later Snape laid his quill aside and looked at him expectantly. Now that he was about to find out if Snape was still in love with his mother, he found he didn’t want to ask again just then. He couldn’t come up with anything else to say, and settled for “So…”

Snape quirked an eyebrow at him, but seemed happy to not have to answer right away. Instead he said, somewhat awkwardly, “How… how are you finding the term so far?"

Harry had the urge to laugh at the thought – and reality – of Snape attempting to exchange conversational pleasantries, and with him of all people. He had to accept, though, that his own conversational gambit hadn’t exactly been the best in history, so he carefully didn’t laugh, and instead said the same thing he would have said if it were Sirius who had asked the question.  

“I’m not sure, actually. I mean, I’m really enjoying my new subjects, but in the others I thought it was supposed to be a step up from the O.W.L.s. So far, though, we either seem to be going over incredibly boring old things that we could probably do in our sleep, or learning impossibly difficult new things.” The Potions lessons definitely fell into the latter category.

“I suppose they do,” answered Snape, not seeming to realise that Harry hadn’t vocalised the last statement or that Harry could ‘overhear’ his amusement at that description of lessons so far.

“Can I…” Harry began, then decided that he should really be allowed to ask questions without first needing approval if they were to have any sort of sensible conversation.

“What’s it like for you, teaching?” A question he’d actually wanted to ask for a while, and he was sure that Snape, with his professed dislike for it, would have a much more interesting answer than, say, Professor McGonagall.

Snape actually smiled at that, and answered the question that Harry was thinking rather than the one he’d spoken. “I suppose now is when I am meant to say that I loathe it and that I… what’s the current gossip? ... have my eyes firmly set on the Defence Against the Dark Arts position? But the truth of it is that I enjoy the practice of my own art very much. In addition, if I can make even one of you children each year see something worthwhile in it over, or even in addition to, the instant effects of Charms or Transfiguration, then I feel vindicated in my choice of profession.

“As for teaching Defence, honestly I think that the position is more trouble than it is worth, and my experience in the area is more in the practice of Dark Arts than defending against them.”

Well, that was interesting. Harry was again glad of the proof that he wasn’t the only one confessing more than he would normally, at least. He was very sure Snape would never have admitted any of that to him, but especially the last bit, before his mother’s little creation had been revealed. The rest of the evidently heartfelt speech was quite fascinating too. He was about to ask another question when he realised that his friends would expect him back eventually, and he had no idea how long Snape’s answer to his original question would take. It was, after all, the reason for this meeting and he knew somehow that the answer would not be a simple yes, or for that matter, a simple no. “So, um… did you have enough time to think about it?” he asked, hoping that Snape would understand what he was trying to say.

“I… yes.” Snape said, uncharacteristically hesitant. Harry could understand that, as he wasn’t exactly comfortable with it either, and Snape  _was_  about to explain how he felt about a woman he’d loved to that woman’s son, to whom he was magically bound.

“I suppose that really I need to start by explaining some other things. I don’t know how much Lily’s diaries told you, so I might repeat things you already know. I trust that you will not let any of this leave this room.” It wasn’t a question, but Harry nodded anyway.


	4. 1970-1971

Karin and Alexander Snape sat side by side on the couch, with their son standing on the rug opposite them. His hands were clasped in front of him, tension written in every line of his body as he waited to see what they had to say to him. They appeared to be reading a piece of thick, creamy parchment, covered with elegant purple calligraphy.

Finally his father spoke, perhaps deciding that Severus had been left waiting long enough. “As we had expected, you will be attending Hogwarts next year. The wand-maker will be sent for at once. You are dismissed.”

Severus immediately restrained the smile that tried to appear. As they had said, they had always known the invitation would come. A show of pleasure would merely indicate that he had felt uncertainty about the outcome. He had to admit he was pleased though, as well as slightly disappointed that, yet again, he would not be allowed to visit Diagon Alley. His parents often said that it would not be appropriate to go shopping in person. Either their servants went, or the shopkeepers came to them, except in very special cases when his father went to Knockturn Alley to purchase particularly sensitive items.

***

Severus’ hand brushed across the breast of his new school robe, feeling the texture of the embroidered school crest in a search for reassurance as he waited for the Hogwarts Express to arrive. Then he slipped it into the pocket to feel the shape of his new wand – rowan, ten and a half inches, unicorn hair, ‘unusually resilient’ – a comforting weight in his palm. His parents had bid him a cool goodbye early that morning, stating their assurance that he would be no less than the best. Then he, and a servant to ensure he wouldn’t have to do anything for himself, had departed by their coach for King’s Cross. Now he stood alone on the platform, eyes scanning the crowd, and wondered which of the other children would be considered appropriate companions. It was easy to identify a number of them as fellow first years by the mixture of nervousness and excitement on their faces. He knew that his own face showed only a little – he had, after all, had years of training in impassivity from his parents, but he also wanted to fit in.

His mind wandered, no longer registering the information his eyes were sending, as he allowed himself to dream of what might happen – his Sorting, the classes, Quidditch victories perhaps. Like half the others in his year, no doubt, he allowed himself to create a fantasy where he would be chosen to play for his House team despite tradition and even practicality. It was impossible of course. No first year would ever be agile, coordinated and strong enough to be a Chaser for a House team. Still, it was a pleasant thing to imagine. He lost himself in a daydream of a cheering green-and-silver crowd. It would be Slytherin naturally – his parents would countenance no other decision.

He was abruptly made aware of reality again by a hand being waved in front of his face. His eyes focused on a girl, an inch or two shorter than him, red-haired and shockingly green-eyed, standing just close enough to make him slightly uncomfortable.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hello,” Severus replied tentatively, repressing the urge to take a step backwards. He, at least, had better manners.

“My name’s Lily. Lily Evans,” she said in what the reserved boy thought an astoundingly forward manner. “Are you a first year as well?”

The girl was clearly Muggle-born, and his parents definitely wouldn’t approve. But he also didn’t want to reject the first Hogwarts student he had met. He offered his own name. “I’m Severus Snape, and yes, I’m a first year too.”

“Wow, that’s an impressive name,” Lily replied. “Nice to meet you.” She smiled cheerfully, and turned towards a small group of girls close by. Severus surprised himself then.

“Wait,” he said quietly. She turned back, but his impulsive decision to try and make friends with someone he knew would be found inappropriate crumbled. “I… It was nice to meet you.”

“Yes. Maybe we’ll see each other at school.” She smiled again and walked over to the girls while he returned his gaze to an abstract point across the platform.

***

Severus rather enjoyed watching the faces of the majority of the other children twist with awe as they entered the Great Hall. He, of course, knew exactly what to expect, yet even he had to admit that it was rather astonishing. Still, allowing that to show in his face would be an unpardonable weakness.

All of the first years lined up in front of the stool at the front and listened to the Sorting Hat’s song. Severus concealed his impatience, and his irritation with the inane tune, without needing to think about it and waited, seemingly serene, for his turn. Eventually Professor McGonagall called his name.

Nervously he took his seat on the stool and the Hat was lowered onto his head. It was very quiet for a while, the noise of the Great Hall muted somehow. Then the Hat’s creaky voice spoke softly in his ear.

“Ah, a Snape. I know what I should do with you, but…”

‘But?’ thought Severus, knowing that he didn’t have to vocalise for the Hat to hear him.

“But,” it said “I think you would be much happier in Ravenclaw. They would be better for you. Not that you don’t have the ambition and cunning for Slytherin, but the ruthlessness, that they’d have to teach you, and you won’t like their methods. You’ll have to be very careful to find the right friends.”

No. It sounded so tempting, but his parents would never forgive him if he allowed himself to be Sorted into Ravenclaw. They would know that it had been his choice. He shook his head slightly. Slytherin it would have to be, and Slytherin it was.

He took his place at the table, and put all thought of the choice out of his head. It could not be undone now, and it was what he had to do. No choice at all, really.

***

“You haven’t had many real choices at all, have you?” A stranger’s voice in his head, a boy’s, he thought. It sounded sympathetic, and a little sad, and he knew that was strange, although he didn’t know why.

***

It turned out that he had several classes with Lily that year. Severus did not make any particular friends for some weeks. The art of casual conversation seemed beyond him. Perhaps seeing that, Lily made an effort to speak to him whenever possible. She too had few close friends, but because she was a part of so many groups rather than any lack of social skills. Something about her invited his trust, and very soon he found himself becoming startlingly at ease around her. They made an unlikely partnership, but a partnership it was, and a friendship. He allowed her to call him ‘Sev’, she gave him an entrance to all her groups. ‘Lily’s friend’ was an epithet with a cachet that ‘Pureblood Snape’ could not hope to match. He helped her with Potions and History of Magic while she explained Muggle life and Transfiguration.

By the end of the year, he couldn’t imagine how he had gotten along without her for his best friend, confidante and partner. He’d slowly begun to make other friends, with her help, but she would always be the most important person in his life. He knew it with the conviction of an eleven year-old, promising to be best friends always.


	5. 1974-1976

Severus made his way down to the last carriage of the Hogwarts Express, where he would meet Lily as he always did after each holiday they spent at home. From a pocket, he produced a book and settled down next to the window to read. As usual, he was brought out of his reverie a short while later by the sound of the door opening, and cheerful voices swelling in volume. He looked up to see Lily walk in smiling as ever, followed by her Gryffindor friends – James, Remus and, Merlin help him, Sirius Black. Oh yes, there was Peter, following behind.

“I see you managed to survive the summer again, Snape,” Black sniped.

Severus opened his mouth to deliver a scathing retort but Lily beat him to it.

“Be nice, or get out, Siri. And don’t you say anything, Sev.” Her admonitory glare was the equal of anything Severus could produce, even on his better days.

“Yes, mother,” he replied, putting a fake sulk into his voice and heaving a long-suffering sigh as she sat down next to him.

“Well, I guess you two will want to catch up,” suggested James. “After all, we did all get to spend the last couple of weeks together at Sirius’. So we’ll be back in a while.”

“Thanks, James.” Severus noticed how Lily’s smile changed when she looked at James, but refrained from commenting. “So, how was your summer?” she began as the others left.

They fell into the pattern of conversation as if everything was just the same, but Severus couldn’t stop thinking about the smile she’d given James. He knew that nothing would have happened yet – she surely would have told him – but he could see that it was only a matter of time. It took several weeks before he realised that what he felt was… jealousy.

***

In May of that year Lily came up to him after breakfast one morning looking astonishingly elated. She dragged him into an unused room, and proceeded to tell him all about the fact that James had kissed her for the first time the previous night. He smiled and said he was happy for her, and he was. James would be – was – good for her in a way that he could never be. He also knew that she loved James, but she’d never indicated anything more towards Severus than the friendship they shared. That would simply have to be enough. Ambition and desire to conquer paled in the face of obvious facts. Fighting a losing battle was not something he enjoyed.

Both James and Lily seemed content to allow their relationship to proceed slowly and Severus was very glad that Lily didn’t appear to want to change their friendship because of her new closeness to James. He was flattered that she came to him for advice on what to do, especially since he’d never been interested in any of the other girls. Next to her, they all seemed like…candles beside the sun, or some other ridiculously romantic phrase that he would have paid good money to have scrubbed from his brain.

***

_He swore he could hear laughter – in that strange boy’s voice – in the back of his mind as he thought that._

***

A year later, Severus received the shock of his life. Lily came to see him, seeming agitated. He knew better by now than to push her for information, she would tell him what was wrong when she was ready, and he could do nothing to change it. So he looked down at his work and tried to act as if he wasn’t watching her every move. The way she fidgeted with her hair, then wove her fingers together in her lap and pursed her lips screamed that something serious was going on.

Half an hour after she’d sat down beside him, she began to speak. She started in the middle of a sentence, as if continuing a previous train of thought. It took him a while to figure out what exactly she was saying, and for the first few moments after he did he was sure he had to be misinterpreting it. He’d known she was in love with James for a long time, so that was no surprise. What was astonishing though was what she was saying about him, the strength of the implication that what she felt for James was no less than what she felt for him. Had he been wrong when he thought he knew her feelings?

The opening she’d given him was just too great, the temptation too strong to ignore. The mere hint that his feelings were returned was what he hadn’t dared to hope for, and she’d given him so much more than that. He knew he could offer her nothing and that James could give her everything, but now that loss was not guaranteed he had to tell her how he felt. No, show her. Words had always been his defence, not his honesty. He leaned forward just slightly; close enough to press his lips lightly to hers, and felt an answering pressure from her. Then she stood and practically ran out of the room, presumably back to James.

He’d ruined everything. If it hadn’t been beneath his dignity he would have curled up in his chair and just hurt for the rest of the day. He couldn’t bear the thought of going to dinner. Let Lily think he was weak if she wanted, he didn’t want to cope with seeing she and James together.

Hunger drove him down to breakfast the next day. He couldn’t keep from glancing at her once, catching her looking at him. He jerked his eyes away, but couldn’t stop the hot flush, part hurt, part anger, which rose in his face. Part guilt too, because James was there beside her, watching them both with an unreadable expression.

***

More than two weeks after the kiss, Severus was surprised to see Lily approaching him as he sat by the lake, taking advantage of the spring sunshine. He hid the flaring feeling of guilt by looking away, knowing that she would all too easily believe that he was angry with her. He said nothing even when she stood in front of him, blocking out the light, nor when she sat down next to him, drawing her knees up to her chest. Finally she grew tired of waiting to be acknowledged, and addressed herself to the lake.

He listened, somewhat unwillingly, to what she had to say. Halfway through her speech he began to allow himself to hope that maybe, just maybe, he could get what he wanted, at least for a while.

The conversation with James the next day was truly astonishing, but then, Gryffindors were noted for their foolhardy bravery. Perhaps it was merely characteristic of them that one would be willing to give another man a chance with the woman he loved. Severus knew that, had it been his choice, he would have clung to her as tightly as possible. Perhaps that was why she would always be James’ first, even if she claimed to love him too.

***

He learned a lot about himself during the next year and a bit. How much he was willing to tolerate, if at the end of it he could just spend half an hour alone with Lily. How much happiness he could feel, just by being close and knowing that she wanted it too. How much he could have in common with a Gryffindor – he had never counted Lily as one, she seemed just as much a Slytherin, or Ravenclaw, or Hufflepuff – just because they both loved Lily. But he never allowed himself to forget that at the end of their seventh year, it would end. As in everything else, he had no other choice.


	6. September 8th/1977

Severus fixed his eyes on the wall behind Harry as he paused, knowing what he had to speak of next, and realising that the boy knew it too. Worse, that he knew how difficult it was for him. He could not bear to look at the expression of sympathy and even pity he was certain would show on Harry’s face. Intolerable, that’s what it was, that a boy, this boy – Lily’s son and his pupil, should dare to feel pity for him!

// _No. Look at me. Please?_ //

Despite himself, he shifted his gaze to the boy’s face, somehow unable to resist the honesty in that plea. Sympathy was there, yes, but not the pity he had expected to see and resent, rather an empathy and understanding. That, if anything, was perhaps harder to face. Maybe it wasn’t as great a mistake as he’d thought to tell Harry the story from his point of view. Besides, the boy had to know, if Severus’ answer to his question was to make any sense at all to him.

“Will you tell me the rest of it?”// _I need to hear it._ //

“What little there is.”// _Maybe I need to tell it._ //

***

_1977_

_It was almost over, now. He had this only, another secretive meeting like all the others, one last time before graduation. One last time before James proposed, and she said yes. One last time to love her which would have to last for the rest of his life. It was as sweet as always, and yet so bitter to hold her, knowing that this fleeting moment was all that was left to him. After this she could not even be seen as his friend, let alone be his lover._

_Afterwards, he tried to stay awake as long as possible, to fix her and the moment in his memory. Physical and emotional exhaustion dragged him into a deep sleep far too soon for his liking. He almost woke once, feeling her lips caress across his forehead in a loving benediction, but he had barely risen into the shallows of sleep when a word from her commanded him back into the depths. Even without magic to back her order, he would have willingly obeyed. He was not at all eager to wake and leave her for the last time._

_He felt it distantly when she came back to the bed, moving enough to make room for her, fitting himself around her, the veil of sleep allowing him the honesty of clinging to the little closeness they had left._

_When they both woke their farewells were filled with an awkwardness that had been absent from all except their very first meeting. The distance between them stung, all the more so because he knew that it was his actions and lack of them last night that had begun it. She would have been content to show him her love for as long as it was possible, he knew._

_The words of affection had never come easily to him, and he regretted that more than anything afterwards, that at the end he had allowed the beginnings of despair and the resentment he had tried to stave off to keep himself from telling her what he felt, for his sake as much as hers. She, after all, would have James for the rest of their lives. Severus had no doubts about that. She would have his love too, for all the good it would do either of them._

_***_

_September 8 th_

His story done, he allowed himself another cautious look at Harry’s face, almost challenging him again to dare to show pity. Nothing in the boy’s expression spoke of it, and more than that Snape couldn’t feel any through their bond, allowing him to keep his pride.  He felt no anger either, or resentment, or any of the other emotions he had expected. He hated to admit it, but it seemed not so great a mistake after all. He was glad because he didn’t think he could bear to see any of those emotions in the eyes that were so like Lily’s, now that they knew the whole story.

// _Never, I promise._ //

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Harry. It’s not worth the pain.”

Harry looked at him questioningly, quite clearly wondering which promises he’d made which were beyond his ability to keep, but for once the boy kept his mouth shut, at least on that account.

“Just one question.”

“Yes?”

“Well, I always thought… it always seemed like you were friends with Lucius Malfoy.”

Severus snorted. “You mistake self-preservation for bad taste, I think. Lucius was three years older than I and lorded it over everyone younger than him. As a Slytherin, I was not obligated to commit actions of foolhardy bravery, and it was easier and safer by far to go along with him. Similarly, my… position… now requires me to give allowances to his son which I would much rather not, were I free to choose.”

“Oh.”

It was time to end the discussion, get rid of the boy, and try to deal with the long-suppressed emotions telling the story had stirred up. “I believe I still have to give you an answer, so here it is.”

A deep breath. “Once, I loved your mother very much. She gave me more than I could ever repay and she hurt me more than I ever thought possible. I think that I will always love her, and I know that I’ll always miss her, the friendship as well as the love. I’ll always wonder what might have been, even though I know it’s pointless. But the boy who longed for her died the day she agreed to marry your father, and the man who loved her died the day he took the Dark Mark. I’m different now, and if I still knew how to, I would love differently.”

He paused, unsure whether to add the last line, but knowing that the boy deserved the honesty. “If I had the time over again, and if I could choose, then I think perhaps I would choose not to love her.”

A few minutes of silence passed.

Finally Harry said, “Thank you for being so honest, and for the memories.” It had been like being there. He had a few more treasured memories of his parents to savour. It took a while for him to realise that Snape had been… kind to him, even while reliving memories that clearly gave him pain.

// _I thought that… you would appreciate them._ //

“I do. And I think you’re being too hard on yourself, or maybe you just refuse to see some things.”

Snape arched his eyebrow at Harry, but didn’t ask what he meant.What he had revealed today – willingly or unwillingly – about his past and himself would change things between them. There was no way it could not. All of this was moving far too fast for his liking and he had no desire to make it move any faster.


	7. September 21st

It was late at night, almost early morning in fact, the rest of the castle at rest. The most comfortable of times, when he knew for certain that he could sit for a while, undisturbed by students, colleagues, and Albus. But not tonight.

Severus dropped his book from suddenly nerveless fingers as he felt the Dark Mark burn. An agonising, familiar pain crowded his body and the knowledge of the required gathering flooded into his mind. He gathered the things he’d need, long practice allowing him to push the pain aside long enough to gather his wits along with his equipment. It was, after all, the tiniest of inconveniences compared to others he’d felt in Voldemort’s service. Late arrival, he knew – oh, how he knew – would be punished beyond his ability to stand, but so would be arriving unprepared. Tonight he could not win. He should have known to be ready, but should have carried no weight now.

He spared a moment to be thankful for the fact that his reading over the last few weeks had shown him how to erect a rudimentary shield between Harry and himself, blocking most of the leakage through the bond, or else the boy would have been awakened. He no doubt would be down here demanding to know what was going on shortly afterward, something Severus surely did not need right now. Or, worse by far, Harry would discover the location of the meeting through the bond and attempt something characteristically foolish and bravely Gryffindor. No, it was much better for both of them if he remained asleep and unaware of what would occur that night.

Soon, but not nearly soon enough, everything was assembled. His broom took him to the edge of the Hogwarts grounds where he donned the robe and mask, then he Apparated to the meeting place. It was as disorienting as he always found it, and when he regained his balance and bearings enough to look around him he realised with a pang of terror he couldn’t contain that he was the last to arrive. As always, that meant one thing.

“Ah, Severus.” His master’s voice. “So you deign to grace us with your presence after all. How very kind of you.” From behind the masks arrayed on either side of Voldemort he could feel cold, cruel eyes resting on him, waiting eagerly for what they too knew would come.

“I am very sorry, my Lord.”

“I’m afraid sorry isn’t quite enough, Severus.”

He knew what he had to do, not that it would help. With effort, he repressed the shudder that longed to crawl through his veins and knelt. On hands and knees, he dragged himself across the clearing to kiss the hem of Voldemort’s robe, prostrating himself before the creature he longed to destroy. Unwillingly, he flashed back to the countless times he’d performed the same action, and doubtless it would have the same result as always. He tensed, waiting for the blow to fall.

“Anguiso.”

He collapsed, thrashing with pain as fire ate along every nerve and muscle, writhing along his bones, vicious cold biting along his skin, opposing elements not cancelling each other out but rather seeming to wage a battle inside his body, driving each other to greater heights. He held the shield as long as he could, struggling to protect the boy, but within moments it was all he could do to hold on to his mind.

***

Harry awoke gasping, the pain from his scar fading upon waking. For the shortest of seconds he thought it was another dream, ‘just’ like all the others. But no, agony still danced through his body, and somehow he knew that it was merely a shadow of the pain Snape felt. He found in him too much pain for one body, now spilling down through a new outlet.  He whimpered quietly, the pain distant and unreal enough that he could be thankful for the sound-muffling effect of the thick curtains around his bed. He reached for his wand and cast a silencing spell, in case it got worse. He hugged himself tightly, and hoped it would pass soon, closing his eyes and trying to endure. There was nothing else he could do. The pain encompassed Snape’s mind, leaving no space for anything else to make its way to Harry, and besides he knew with a sick certainty that any action he could take would make the situation worse, if it had any effect at all.

***

“Anguiso.”

***

Perhaps you could get used to such lancing agony if you felt it long enough, and distantly enough. It felt like hours, but Harry had the suspicion that it had only been minutes, maybe even seconds. Snape’s all encompassing suffering still filtered along their bond but Harry found he could concentrate on things other than merely tolerating the pain and trying to keep breathing through it. Now a new urge was rising in him, not just to make the pain go away, but to make it stop. 

Not just for him, but for Snape. He wanted to end the pain, not in any distant general sense, as he would have wanted an absence of pain for any other human, but in a deeply personal one. He wanted the pain to cease, and he wanted to be the one to make it cease. He wanted to… protect Snape. If he hadn’t been so intent on that goal, he would have boggled at the thought. For now, though, he was too busy trying to think of a way – any way – to help. He could feel Snape desperately clinging to his sanity, and he could not begin to comprehend how the man had endured this on the many previous occasions that he now knew had occurred. Harry needed to help, needed to stop the pain or at the very least give Snape the strength to endure.

Harry was so focused on the thought that he barely felt his own strength drain away, leaving him limp on the bed. Then blackness crept up on him and clubbed him mercilessly over the head. He fell down into its embrace, welcoming the absence of pain.

***

“Anguiso.”

He had grown still long ago, even the reflex twitching too much for his overtaxed muscles to bear, his body shutting down in a futile effort to evade the torture, for it was all in the mind. At the unexpected influx of energy, he jerked once more, feeling the green-gold strength that he knew belonged to Harry supporting him, giving him a little more endurance. If his throat was not already ragged with screaming, he would have whispered the boy’s name in gratitude. Later, he would be thankful that he had not, that Voldemort’s own punishment had, perversely, saved him from further agony. But for now, thanks to the boy’s gift, he had enough resources to push himself into blessed unconsciousness before Voldemort was inclined to give it. Once there, he knew the punishment would stop. He would be revived, and instructed as to what was required of him this time. Then he would be free to return to his rooms and attempt, unsuccessfully, to soothe his muscles enough to allow him to function somewhat normally the following day.  

Darkness claimed him.


	8. September 22nd-23rd

Harry woke, lifted his head, and promptly laid it back down on the pillow as it began to pound.

“Ow,” he said with feeling. “Ow, ow, ow.”

Clearly the silencing spell that he vaguely remembered casting last night had worn off at some point because Ron poked his head around the bed curtain.

“What’s the matter, Harry?”

“Just a headache.” Harry tried to sound casual. After a moment to compose himself, he attempted sitting up cautiously, wincing as the movement made the throbbing increase. Other parts of his body decided to join the chorus of pain too. “Ow, ow! Oh shit.”

“What?”

“Oh, er, nothing. Just forgot something.”  _Or rather, someone._  He reached out cautiously along the bond, but was thwarted by the shield that Snape had put up last week and kept up almost constantly since. Well, at least the presence of the shield meant the man was alive, and moreover had enough energy to spare towards it. Harry was glad but he told himself that was only because he wouldn’t have wanted all the energy he’d expended last night to go to waste.

“I need breakfast.”

“You need a shower first.”

Ah yes, excessive sweating during the night. He pried himself out of bed, every part of his body making its complaint felt, and tried not to whimper as he made for the bathroom.

***

Snape wasn’t at breakfast. Harry found himself remembering previous occasions when the professor had missed the morning meal, and could not help but wonder whether those absences had a similar cause. The thought made a strange sort of shiver run down his spine as he remembered the pain spilling down the bond last night. He wondered what it must be like to go into that situation time and again knowing what would happen.

Damn it, he didn’t want to admire or respect the man! And as for liking him…

He didn’t have Potions that day and couldn’t come up with a reasonable excuse to visit Snape, especially considering the inordinate amounts of time he’d been spending with him recently. Worry ate at him all day as the shield remained up, and even the few looks he sneaked at the man over lunch and dinner didn’t tell him anything of use.

***

_September 23 rd_

In Potions the following day Harry deliberately tipped too much powdered willow bark into his Analgesic Potion, causing it to thicken into a solid mass at the bottom of the cauldron. Snape took the cue as Harry had known he would, ranting about his ineptness at Potion making, then ordering him to stay behind, clean out his cauldron and make it up again. Harry sighed loudly and began to scrub as the others continued their work. As they finished up their potions, he was just beginning to gather his ingredients for the second time. With sympathetic glances his friends left the classroom, saying that they’d see him at dinner.

When they were gone, Snape muttered a locking spell and swooped down on Harry. “May I ask why you felt it necessary to do that? I know for a fact that you knew what you were doing.”

Harry had made a conscious effort to make sure Snape understood that bit of information through their bond, the shield being weakened by proximity. Not looking up from his chopping, he replied.

“Are you saying that I might possess some Potion-making skills after all?”

“Harry.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “I wanted to know how you were. I mean, I felt what you felt, mostly, and it did knock me out as well. You certainly weren’t planning to let me know about it.”

“I am perfectly well, but you have no business knowing or wondering about it.”

“Oh no? If I remember rightly, you got some use out of me knowing about it, while I just got unconscious.”

“Very well, then.” Snape said with bad grace, sensing that Harry wouldn’t give in. “Voldemort felt it necessary to punish me for my late arrival.”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what? It wasn’t as if you were the one pointing the wand at me.”

Harry snorted. “Still, I’m sorry. For being snippy, if nothing else.”

They were quiet for a while Harry finished preparing his ingredients and began to create the potion and Snape returned to his desk to do something. When it was safe to leave it to simmer, Harry walked up to the desk to resume the conversation.

“So,” he began. “Something else happened as well that made me faint, not just the pain.”

“Yes.” For once Snape didn’t make him explain what he wanted to know. “I apologise for the fact that you had to feel the pain, and that the excessive stress caused me to draw on your strength through the bond.”

“Not a problem.” Harry assured him. “I think I quite wanted be able to help somehow. Actually, I was quite glad not to have to...”  _feel it anymore_ , he was about to say, before he remembered that Snape had before and would have to again.

“Quite. But the problem remains – we have to do something about this. The shield is virtually useless at times of stress, and neither of us can afford to be incapacitated by the other’s pain, or to be drawn upon without warning.”

“What… what could we do?”

“My reading has indicated only one possibly permanent solution. We have to learn to trust each other, and to accept the bond.” Snape’s expression showed exactly what he thought of that.

“I guess we could do that. I mean, I think I trust you, and well, I suppose that I could accept it eventually.”

“Then I suppose you’re not the problem.” Snape sounded rather bitter. “But, I’m sure you see, trust does not come easily to me.”

“Maybe, but you could at least try. Like, not keeping the shield up all the time or something.”

“That idea… has some merit. After all, it doesn’t seem to be doing much good now anyway.”

After a short hesitation Harry felt the shield being lowered. A sort of general awareness of Snape’s presence returned, but no thoughts made themselves immediately known.

“You know, this could be kind of useful though. Like for communicating and stuff, instead of just leaking. If you had something… information or whatever… that you had to let the Headmaster know quickly.”

Snape said nothing but Harry could feel agreement, and a general sort of disgust that he had agreed with two of Harry’s ideas in such a short time. He couldn’t hold back a smile.

// _You… may call me Severus if you wish. But if you do so where others can hear you, I will be forced to take measures._ //

Harry’s smile widened. The man couldn’t even offer a tentative gesture of friendship without turning it into a threat.

“Exactly.” He actually sounded a little proud about it!

“The potion!” Harry walked back, just in time to catch it before it boiled over. He strained it into a bottle and placed it on his desk. Snape examined it by sight, texture, smell and taste and eventually, reluctantly, had to admit that he’d done a reasonable job. Not a great one, but certainly good enough to pass if it were for an exam.

“Don’t worry,” said Harry. “At least you don’t have to tell me out loud that I got it right, Severus.”

Snape – Severus – glared. “Just go to dinner, Harry.” // _And let me try to cope with what I’ve gotten into._ //

Harry laughed and went.


	9. Interlude: Hallowe'en

It was finally the true heart of autumn, the sky grey and dark and lowering, seeming to hang so close overhead that Harry almost thought he could reach his hand up and scrape away a handful of cloud for a spell or potion. It could be nothing short of purely magical. The winds blew, each one the fast-growing child of a gale, each gust whipping an armful of flaming leaves away from the parent tree and swirling them into fanciful shapes in the air. The air held the first hints of a bite, dropping daily a little further into winter.

Of course, it was raining too, fat measured drops plopping satisfactorily against every surface. If he’d been in a more pensive or depressed mood, Harry would have described the sky as weeping, huddled behind the safety of his scarf and coat and umbrella. Instead, bare-headed, he tilted his face up to the sky to feel the rain more fully against it, flung his arms wide as if to embrace the whole living glory of it all, opened his mouth, and laughed.

In his private workroom, Severus caught himself laughing as he hadn’t in more years than he cared to count.


	10. November 14th

Severus stopped speaking as a knock sounded at the classroom door. A moment later it opened and Albus Dumbledore stepped in.

“Ah, Severus,” he said. “Do you mind if I borrow Harry for a minute?”

“Not at all.”

“Thank you. Harry?”

Harry got up, and Severus refused to let his eyes follow the boy or wonder what Dumbledore wanted with him.

// _Don’t worry, I’ll let you know all about it._ //

// _What makes you think I was wondering about it?_ //

// _Telepathic bond, remember?_ //

Severus pretended he hadn’t heard that last comment and began to speak to the class again. Over the last several weeks he and Harry had become something resembling friends, and it was uniquely disconcerting. Their control over the bond was also making progress, but it was excruciatingly slow and prone to frequent, irritating, backsliding. In contrast, the progress of their relationship was little short of astonishing, when the animosity of the last six years was taken into account. Perhaps that was the effect of the bond, but it was still surprising that two such enemies could so rapidly become friends.

At any rate, while they had exchanged little personal information, they had at least discovered that they could be in the same room for a considerable length of time without one of them attempting murder, and that they could even enjoy each other’s company. Much to his vexation Harry had proved to be a stimulating and intelligent companion when his more immature remarks were left out of the equation.

***

“Professor Dumbledore?”

“It’s nothing you need to be worried about, Harry. Come up to my office and I’ll explain.”

Once they reached his office, Dumbledore offered Harry a seat and a plate of sweets. Harry picked a sherbert lemon, and popped it into his mouth.

“Harry, it has come to my notice that you have been spending a considerable amount of time with Professor Snape recently.”

“Er, yes?” Harry managed to articulate around the sweet.

“I am also not unaware of the fact that your friends do not know that you are speaking to him that often. They are under the impression that you are doing homework, or research, or polishing your broomstick, or something of that order.”

That was a rather comprehensive list of his excuses for leaving the company of his friends. “Well, you see…” Harry was rather glad the Headmaster had told him there was no need to be worried, or he would have been. The conversation was beginning to sound rather ominous to him.

“Harry,” Dumbledore interrupted, “I can understand why you would want to develop a friendship with Professor Snape. I also understand why you might not want your friends to know that. After all, I suspect that few, if any, can see what I and now you see in him.”

Harry wondered what Dumbledore saw in Severus. Unless his mother had been keeping even more from him, it couldn’t be  _exactly_  what Harry saw in him.

Dumbledore was still speaking. “He is an intelligent, loyal, and infinitely courageous man, but most of your fellow students can only see a professor who it is far too easy to loathe.” He sounded rather sad, the customary twinkle of his eyes muted, and Harry felt quite sorry for being one of those students not so long ago, especially with his new knowledge of the man behind the professor.

“Yes,” he said. There was nothing else he could easily articulate.

“That’s beside the point, however. What I really wanted to speak to about is that I would like to encourage this friendship. I think it will be good for both of you.”

Harry fought not to allow his jaw to drop. Through the bond he could distantly feel Severus’ very similar, though better controlled, reaction.

Dumbledore’s eyes crinkled with amusement. “I am always willing to give my support to better relations between professors and students,” he said. “And in this case, where both of you will have to work closely against Voldemort, it is even more important.”

“Uh, yes.” Harry wondered if his vocabulary had shrunk to that one word.

“So I’m prepared to offer you an opportunity that will allow you to spend time with Professor Snape without having to lie to your friends.”

Harry struggled to say something besides yes. “That… would be good,” he offered. Success!

The Headmaster’s smile was spreading. “When you return to class, you should inform your friends that I have suggested that Professor Snape offer you support in your studies and if required, tutoring. After all, it is impossible to predict when and where Voldemort will strike, and you may be required to contribute. With regular tutoring any disruption to your studies can be minimised. The number of detentions you’ve earned in Potions so far this year mean that they will certainly believe you need help in that subject at least.”

Harry blushed slightly, but he had a question. “But, they’ll want to know why Professor Snape?”

“Easily dealt with. No one is better qualified to tutor you in Potions, and he is at the very least respectably qualified in the other subjects. Also, even I can see that the antagonism between you has not waned in public. You may tell your friends that I have insisted that you learn to work together. Which is nothing less than the truth, after all.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Not at all. This suits my purposes too.

“Now, to the practicalities. I will provide you with a timetable for the tutoring that takes into account Professor Snape’s schedule as well as your own. There are a few things to be worked out, but it should be ready by this evening.”

Harry smiled at the irritation he could feel through the bond. While Severus hadn’t appeared to mind spending time with him recently, clearly he was only okay with it when it was his idea.

// _Think about it this way,_ // he thought at him // _now you get an excuse to disparage my abilities on a regular basis and you don’t even have to spare a thought for the other people in the class._ //

// _A good point, Harry. I may perhaps become reconciled to this idea._ //

Harry mentally thumbed his nose at him.

“Harry?”

“Oh, sorry Professor. I was thinking.”

“I’m glad that this idea makes you so happy. I only hope that Severus feels the same way.”

Harry wiped the grin off his face. Their mock-argumentative mental conversations had been having that effect disturbingly often of late.

// _I find it equally disconcerting, you know._ //

// _You’ve said. Lots of times. Now shush. Don’t you have a class to be teaching?_ //

// _Well, it just isn’t worthwhile without you here._ //

Harry felt Severus’ chagrin when that statement didn’t come out quite as sarcastically as he’d intended it to.

// _Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone that you miss me._ //

// _Shouldn’t you be listening to Albus?_ //

// _Oh shit._ //

Laughter through the bond. Harry scrabbled to register what the Headmaster was saying.

“… and perhaps you should talk with him about your mother. You may discover some interesting insights about her from him. I know how much you like to hear about your parents. You may not know it, but she and Severus were quite close friends when they were at school.”

Well, at least there was one thing the Headmaster didn’t know about their new friendship then.

// _A good thing, too._ // Clearly Severus was still listening in.

“Really?” Harry asked as the Headmaster innocently as he could manage. “I will do that.”

// _Harry, I will turn you into a good liar yet._ //

// _You’re a bad influence on me, you know?_ //

He bit back yet another grin at the aggrieved silence that was his only reply.

“Well, you should be returning to your class now, Harry. I’m sure that everyone will be wondering what I’m doing to you and you should probably go and assuage their curiosity. Don’t worry about telling Severus, I’ll do that.”

“Thank you sir.”

“As before, you’re very welcome.”

***

As Harry slid back into his seat, Severus allowed the smallest of smiles to cross his face in welcome, knowing that it would either not be noticed, or would be taken as vicious glee that his favourite victim had returned. No need for them to know his real motivation. Harry gave a tiny smile back in reply. Severus instructed Hermione to catch Harry up “since you’d do so without my permission anyway”, and the class resumed.


	11. November 29th

As Harry levered himself out of the chair and picked up his bag, Hermione looked up from the scatter of scribble-covered papers in front of her. “Harry, where are you going?”

“I’ve got tutoring. Again.” Harry tried valiantly to put the required aggrieved tone into his voice, and came close enough to succeeding.

“But you went yesterday!” Ron’s voice was perilously close to a whine. He was not happy about the regular tutoring sessions, and wasn’t at all afraid to show it.

“I know, but he says that I didn’t get it right then, and if I don’t manage to get it right today I have to go again tomorrow.” It was the truth too. They’d been working on the shield on and off for weeks, but Harry couldn’t seem to get the hang of it. Severus was insisting he learn it ‘in case of emergencies’. The thought of the possible ‘emergencies’ provided a very good motivation to learn fast, but didn’t make achieving it any easier.

“You’ve been spending an awful lot of time around him recently, what with your tutoring and the detentions. I mean, you’ve been going practically every day for the last two weeks!”

“I know. But he has been a lot less liberal with the detentions recently. I guess he must be getting quite sick of me too. I mean, lately it’s like he can’t even be bothered to insult me properly!” A good explanation for the fact that recently Severus’ standard ‘Foolish Gryffindor’ and ‘Irritating child’ had been coming out with rather less animosity than usual.

“We can hope. Maybe if you’re really annoying, he’ll get annoyed enough that he’ll refuse to tutor you any more.”

Harry laughed. “I doubt the Headmaster would let him do that. Unfortunately.” He glanced at his watch. “I’m going to be late!”

“Go! If you’re late, he’ll only keep you longer!” Hermione interjected.

“I know!” Harry exclaimed, as he almost ran out of the door.

***

Harry didn’t bother knocking at Severus’ door this time. On the way down he’d established that he was both alone and ready to tutor Harry.

“Sorry I’m late,” he apologised as he entered.

“I’m afraid I managed to survive without the pleasure of your company for an extra…” he consulted his watch, “three minutes.”

“Pity.”

Severus raised his eyebrow as Harry took his seat.

“Would you care to engage in more witty repartee, or may we continue with the planned lesson?”

“Ooooh! Witty repartee!”

“I take a great deal of pleasure in disappointing you, then. Now, try and put the shield up. Properly, not the frankly pathetic efforts you made at it yesterday.”

Harry sighed pointedly, and began to clear his thoughts.

***

Three quarters of an hour later, he sighed yet again and slumped back in the chair.

“I give up.”

“You can’t. This has to be right. But you’re not going to get it right when you’re tired, so we’ll try again on Friday.”

“Not tomorrow?”

“No. Take a couple of days off, and try it fresh. No lessons tomorrow, I think. We’ll work on Transfiguration on Thursday though.”

For a second Harry’s mind brought up the image of his mother and Severus sitting together, heads bent over a Transfiguration book.

_“I’ll_ never _be able to do this, Lily.”_

_“No. You will. I know you. Give it a rest for now though, and we’ll try again in the weekend or something.”_

Severus had a slightly wistful smile on his face. “I remember that. It’s a pity I can’t use her teaching methods more often, but I’m not here to be likeable. Besides which, it would probably give half of the student body a fatal heart attack.”

“Probably.” Harry smiled. A pause, then he said, “So can we…”

“Yes.” The smile was real now, if small. Recently Severus had started inviting Harry into his living room after the study part of their meeting was over. The man’s rooms were absolutely fascinating, crammed full of wonderful magical bits and pieces, books and other interesting things. He let Harry wander about and look at things now that he could trust him a little, and knowing that he would check before touching anything. It had taken a minor accident before he’d learnt that particular lesson however, but at least it had stuck. He had let Harry see what he’d never say – that he was glad someone else took an interest in his things, and wanted to spend time in his rooms, with him.

Severus stood, and opened the concealed door behind his chair. A long passage led eventually into his living room. When they arrived, Harry took one of the armchairs in front of the fire without even waiting for an invitation. Severus gave him a mock glare for his presumption, and offered him tea. Harry accepted.

As Severus went off to prepare it, Harry got up again and began to examine the shelf below the one he’d looked at last time. Absorbed in it, he refused to consider the fact that first, he was becoming friends with Severus Snape, Potions monster, and second, that he was starting to become positively at home in the man’s rooms.

As Severus returned bearing the fruits of his labours – mint tea for Harry and black tea for himself – Harry returned to his chair.

“So,” he said, accepting his tea and after a slight hesitation, “Would you mind if I came down tomorrow anyway? You know, just to talk, like friends?”

That would have been worth it just for the look of utter shock on Severus’ face, even if the response had been a hearty ‘no’. Harry sipped his tea to hide his smile and waited for the man to regain his composure. He already knew what the answer would be.

“I rather thought you would be sick of my presence by now, but you may visit // _you’re very welcome to visit_ // if you are so inclined.” The lukewarm permission couldn’t hide the pleased warmth in his mental voice, or the rather more welcoming thought which accompanied it.


	12. Christmas Holidays

Harry had been on holiday for a week and a half now. His godfather seemed to have missed him a great deal after the amount of time they’d spent together over the summer, getting to really know each other, and he seemed to have regretted the time he’d had to spend away. Meeting Harry at the end of term, Sirius said he’d told Dumbledore only to call in emergencies. So he was free to spend the whole holiday with Harry, and he’d arranged a week long trip to France for them.

They left from Hogsmeade on the first day of the holidays, taking a Portkey to London, and then travelling on the Muggle Eurostar to Paris, where they were to meet Remus. Magic provided them with the required documents to travel as Muggles, and no one seemed to connect the ‘extremely dangerous’ escaped convict of three years ago with the prosperous British man and his nephew travelling together to France for a pre-Christmas holiday.  For Harry, who had barely left the Dursleys’ house before going to Hogwarts, it was a wonderful experience. He enjoyed every minute of the trip, and the knowledge that he would be going back to Sirius’ house for another two weeks afterwards only made it better.

At Sirius’ advice he had left much of his Christmas shopping to be done in Paris, in both the Muggle and Wizarding quarters. Paris had several equivalents to Diagon Alley, including a massive wizarding market. Even with the handy translation spell Sirius taught him, it was virtually impossible to understand the stall-holders over the general hubbub, and Harry had an immense amount of fun trying. In a tiny shop tucked away from the main shopping areas, he found the perfect present for Severus.

Shopping didn’t exclude sightseeing, though, and they did plenty of that too. At the end of the week they boarded the train home loaded down with a pleasant combination of bags and memories.

***

They reached Sirius’ house five days before Christmas, and vanished into a flurry of wrapping paper and preparations. To celebrate Harry’s first Christmas there, Sirius had decided to entertain, and only Harry’s insistence that he wouldn’t enjoy it kept it from being a full-scale party. He considered himself lucky that he’d managed to reduce the guest list to merely Ron, Hermione, their families, and Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall. He’d have liked to invite Severus too, but he was well aware of what Sirius’ reaction to that suggestion would have been. Instead, he contented himself with sending a card through Hedwig and thinking about giving the man his present when he returned to school. 

He was rather surprised by the fact that he missed Severus over the holiday. Despite their new friendship, Harry hadn’t thought he would be able to miss him with Sirius and Remus around. In Paris, though he’d wished that he were there, knowing that with his knowledge he would appreciate the buildings and museums much more than Harry, and would have enjoyed explaining the various things of interest. He also wished that they could spend Christmas together, now that he was almost as much a friend as Ron and Hermione, although in a rather different way.

Even more surprising, Harry found that he missed the closeness of the bond. Distance seemed to buffer the accidental transfer of thoughts and they had agreed to keep their shields up over the holidays anyway. Harry needed the practice and Severus claimed that he could use it too. Once or twice, Harry thought he caught a whisper of thought but Severus had made no overt attempts to communicate, and Harry refused to be the first to try.

On the morning of Christmas Eve, Hedwig returned from delivering Severus’ card with one for Harry in return. Harry gaped and was rather glad that he was alone in his room. He didn’t need to try to explain to Sirius why Professor Snape was sending him a card. Even if the card in question said nothing more than ‘Harry. Happy Christmas. Severus Snape.’ Harry told himself that he wasn’t disgruntled at all, even considering that he’d written a virtual essay about his time in Paris. At least he hadn’t confessed that he’d missed the man. 

He propped the card up on his desk and went to see what Sirius and Remus were doing without looking back at it.

***

The guests arrived in the afternoon. The house, not too big in the ordinary course of things, was positively overflowing with seven Weasleys, four Grangers, Dumbledore and McGonagall. Not to mention Sirius, Remus and Harry himself. Only the judicious application of a barely legal short-term expanding spell allowed them all to fit around the table in the dining room, or even to fit into the room itself.

Sirius had outdone himself with dinner. Harry could still remember his surprise on first discovering that his godfather not only enjoyed but positively loved to cook. He was astonishingly good at it too. Remus on the other hand – well, it was safest just to not let him near the kitchen.

It was well into Christmas Day by the time everyone left, leaving a litter of wrapping paper and boxes behind them. Thankfully a flick of a wand was all the effort required to clear it up. Sirius removed the expanding spell and the house was back to normal, or at least usual.

“So, what did you think, Harry?”

“Best Christmas ever,” he smiled from his seat, and meant every word. “Thanks so much, Sirius.”

“You’re very welcome. I’m just sorry I couldn’t do this for you sooner.” He looked rather wistful at that.

“It was more than worth the wait, I promise.” Harry replied, walking over to stand beside his godfather.

Sirius smiled and hugged him, and Harry went off to bed, yawning widely. He stuck his tongue out at Severus’ card as he tucked himself in.  _I had a great Christmas, thank you very much. Take that, ‘Severus Snape’._


	13. January 6th

Harry met Ron and Hermione at the Hogwarts Express Platform half an hour before the train was due to depart. They exchanged stories of the last week of the holidays while waiting for the train to arrive. Apparently the twins had come up with some new ideas and tested them out at home the previous day with predictably disastrous results. Ron admitted that he was actually glad to be going back to school to get away from it all, and in particular, his mother’s fury.

Harry couldn’t help thinking about the fact that he was going to see Severus again. He wondered what would have happened to the bond due to their distance, and just hoped that it wouldn’t be something like what had happened after the summer. He didn’t think he could cope with another shock like that. Hopefully his mother didn’t have anything else up her sleeve.

***

Harry looked up at the head table as he slipped into his seat for dinner. Severus wasn’t there. A wave of apprehension went through him. All of the teachers were supposed to be at the start of term Feast. He hadn’t felt anything happen to Severus, but he frankly wasn’t sure if he would have, even if it was serious, with the unexpected changes to the bond they’d been experiencing.

Cautiously he reached to free the bond from its shield, then realised that it was somehow down already. He’d thought that by now he had better control than that. He frowned, but didn’t waste time wondering about it. He had to figure out where Severus was.

// _Severus? Are you okay?_ //

// _It’s nothing important, I just got held up with a potion._ //

Harry took a deep calming breath. The bastard had known Harry was concerned but hadn’t said anything! He didn’t care if Severus happened to overhear that thought. In fact, he rather thought he would broadcast it so it would be clear exactly how he felt about it.

// _Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone you were worried about me._ //

Harry attempted to bring his shield up again before he thought something unforgivable that would set them back weeks of work, but ended up scrabbling futilely at it.

// _Shit._ //

// _Harry? What is it?_ //

// _Nothing. Go away._ //

He felt Severus’ turning away, and what he assumed was the professor trying to put up his own shield but having as little success as Harry himself. Then he felt Severus’ worry at the new development, and couldn’t keep a little gloating from his mental projection. At least he now knew it wasn’t solely his fault if Severus was having the same problem.

// _What is going on?_ //

The mystified thought could have been either of them.

// _We need to do something about this. Come to my quarters after the feast._ //

// _Can’t. Have to talk to my friends, or they’ll think something’s odd._ //He was actually happy to be able to say that since he was still slightly annoyed with Severus.

// _Fine, then whenever you can make it down. I’ll be watching a potion anyhow._ //

Harry knew that his acknowledgement would reach Severus and returned his attention to his friends and the meal. A few minutes later, Professor Snape swept in – it was definitely the Professor, and not Severus – and took his seat, a forbidding glare ensuring that his neighbour wouldn’t dare to ask what had kept him.

***

Harry waited until everyone else was asleep before slipping out of Gryffindor Tower. There was no excuse he would have been able to give for going to the dungeons today, and no one would have believe that he needed to use the library this early in the term. Besides, he rather wanted to make Severus wait.

He slipped his Invisibility Cloak around him as he walked quickly through the corridors that led to the dungeons, checking with Severus that it was okay to visit as he went. As he reached the portrait that concealed the entrance to his quarters, he realised that he didn’t need to be told the key – somehow he knew it already, without even having to reach out for it. He frowned but let himself in. Harry felt Severus’ surprise when he realised where he was.

// _That’s charmed to only open in my presence, even if the correct things are done._ //

// _I… hmmm._ //

“Hey,” Harry said, removing his cloak as he entered Severus’ workroom. He wasn’t sure why he still bothered to vocalise, but he rather thought he wanted to keep what little sense of normalcy they could. He had noticed also that mostly it was surface thoughts, or particularly vehement ones, that were overheard, and at least this way he knew what was getting through.

“Good evening.” Severus greeted him without looking up from the cauldron he was adding what appeared to be beetle wings to. “You’ll have to wait a minute, I can’t leave this.”

“Can I help?”

“You’ll just…” A pause. “You can chop the mint. Finely, mind.” Harry rather thought that was as close to an apology as he’d ever get.

// _It is._ //

Harry smiled wryly and began chopping.

***

A quarter of an hour later, Severus set the potion to simmer and turned to him.

“I take it you were having the same problem with the shield.”

“Er, yes. But, well, there was something else I wanted to do first.”

“Yes?” The eyebrow again.

“Here.” Harry thrust a gaily wrapped package at him. “Christmas present,” he muttered, and tried not to blush.

// _I… thank you_.// Severus was speechless, clearly. As he unwrapped it, Harry waited impatiently. The recipient’s reaction was always the best part of giving presents. Eventually, Severus extracted a green-tinged glass paperweight shaped like a coiled snake, the expression carved on its face somehow appearing both relaxed and watchful.

// _Turn it over!_ // Harry’s blush flared as he realised he’d broadcast that thought. Severus did, and discovered that words had been etched underneath. Holding it up, he discovered an inscription. ‘For my mother, Dayan Snape’.

// _Oh my._ //

“I found it in Paris. I thought… that you might like it, it being your family and all. Or at least I thought it was your family…” Harry realised he was perilously close to babbling, and shut up.

“Thank you, Harry. I doubt you know it, but great-aunt Dayan was something of a legend – or perhaps a warning – in the family. She was my grandfather’s sister, and she married a supporter of Grindelwald. Apparently she was willing to tolerate that, presumably for the family’s sake, but when her husband wanted to train their son in the Dark Arts she took the child and disappeared. She was only about twenty three at the time. My father’s version was that she must have died in poverty and misery or something of the sort. He used it as a warning of what happens to people who go against their family. I’d always hoped that she – and her son – did better.”

// _I hoped that she’d made it. That I could make it._ //

“I’m glad I found it, then.” // _I’m glad you like it._ //

// _I have something for you too._ //“Accio present!” When a tissue-wrapped bundle made its way to his hand, Severus passed it to Harry without introduction. Unwrapped, it revealed a silver man’s bracelet, with an oval locket attached. // _It used to be mine, but I think you would appreciate it more._ //

Harry opened it, knowing what he would find – a lovingly executed portrait of his mother at about seventeen. She smiled brightly at him and waved, curiosity written on her face, then looked about the room eagerly. He squinted at the signature, again anticipating what was there, and found a double ‘S’. // _I didn’t know you painted._ //

// _I don’t advertise it._ //

// _No, I don’t s’pose you do._ //

Severus set the paperweight down carefully on the workbench. “Well, now that the obligatory gift-giving is over, I hope we can proceed to the true purpose of this visit.” The old acerbic tone was back, and Harry had to smile.

He slipped the bracelet onto his left wrist before responding. “Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it? I can’t get my shield up, and I don’t think you can either. I don’t know, but I think that maybe it’s a little more… leaky… than it was before. I shouldn’t have been able to get in here on my own.”

He felt assent from the other side. “I can’t think of any reason why that would be so. After all, we were making progress with control before the holidays. We have come to a form of trust and acceptance. Even friendship.” // _Except maybe for the incident this evening._ //

“I guess that… maybe the distance wasn’t good for it?”

“Perhaps. The only thing I can think of is to work on the control again. The exercises we were trying previously. Perhaps it will improve with time.”

// _I hope so._ // “I think I should go back now… lessons tomorrow and all.”

“Yes.” Indicating the bracelet, Severus added “Don’t forget to cast a charm on that if you intend to wear it in public. I assume you would rather not answer questions about it. I suggest Obscurus.”

“I wouldn’t, and I will.”

“Goodnight.”

“’Night. Sweet dreams.”

// _Perhaps, if I’m lucky._ //

Harry looked back, wondering if the undertones he thought he’d caught were real, but Severus looked as he always had. He turned back, shaking his head. Maybe he was more tired than he’d realised.


	14. January 25th

Harry let himself into Severus’ quarters without bothering to consciously check if the other man was there, or if Harry’s presence was okay with him. He was now aware of both the answers without needing that verbal confirmation from Severus. Over the last few weeks the two of them hadn’t made much improvement in controlling the bond after their bizarre degeneration in control over the holidays, and this was only one symptom of it. In fact, if anything, their work had resulted only in the realisation that every day they seemed to be losing a little more control over it.

Now they were almost constantly conscious of the other’s location, general feelings and state of being. When they were in the same room, one would be aware of almost every thought that came to the surface of the other’s mind. They’d tested it one day when feeling particularly frustrated over their lack of progress, and disinclined to continue down that particular path any longer. The awareness of just how little control they had left hadn’t helped at all, especially in Severus’ case. Harry was finding the aggravated situation with the bond difficult enough to cope with and he could only imagine how Severus, with his natural dignity and reliance on control, was finding it. Or perhaps a little more than imagine, with the knowledge of the man he now had, although both of them were being very careful around each other in order to keep some sense of privacy and of themselves in the face of this new invasion. Harry supposed they ought to be thankful that it was only surface thoughts they were unable to control for the moment. There were some thoughts he was having that he would much rather Severus never found out about and was very careful to keep deep inside.

As if that weren’t enough, however, it was getting worse. Earlier that day, in Potions, Harry had caught himself just in time to keep from getting out the ingredients for the sleeping draught Severus planned to teach that morning even before he had instructed them on the plan for the lesson. Simply because the man had been running through the list of components on his way down to the classroom.

Harry could feel Severus’ resignation and rueful agreement with the general sentiments as he dumped his bag on the floor and flopped into one of the chairs in front of the fireplace, the one he’d been using recently. They’d moved their sessions from Severus’ office to his living room in the hope that it would help them to relax or something of the sort. It appeared to make little difference, but at least they could be somewhat more comfortable here. He noticed, as he always did, the paperweight which held an important place on the desk. A moment after he’d taken his place, Severus appeared from his workroom and took the seat opposite, mirroring Harry.

Harry had never thought he’d see the day Severus Snape slumped into a chair. Especially not with such a human expression on his face. Not that he’d thought about it much, but the very idea a few months ago would have seemed positively insane.

Severus snorted.

// _Did you really think I was that inhuman?_ //It was tinged with some sorrow that he couldn’t now keep from Harry.

// _I…Damn, I can’t lie like this._ //The smile that answered that statement was wry, and a little pained. // _I think I knew that I was being unjust to you though. Last year for certain._ //

// _I suppose… that’s something._ //

// _I’m sorry._ //

// _Why? I knew what I was doing when I began to play my part. The children need someone to hate – if only to make Albus seem all the more good._ //

// _I’m not a child, and I never hated you. Disliked you intensely, yes. Thought you had it in for me, for some reason I could never fully understand. Hated you, no._ //

// _If I didn’t know you couldn’t lie…_ // The frown showed he was concentrating on keeping back whatever thought came next, and Harry didn’t try to pry. It was bad enough that they were leaking so much. Without trust, he doubted they’d be able to keep their sanity.

// _Thank you._ //

Harry raised an eyebrow and realised that he must look particularly Snape-ish at that moment. Another snort, more amused than the last one.

// _I’m glad I can make you laugh._ //

// _You know… I missed you over the holidays._ //

More shock. Harry couldn’t hold back his own laughter.

// _I… think I missed you too._ //

// _Wow. That’s almost an admission of liking me._ //

A dead silence from the other chair.

// _Silence means assent. I like you too, you know._ //

// _Most generous of you, Harry. I suppose I have to admit it too, then. Much to my chagrin, I have discovered that I do indeed like you._ //

**_*Click.*_ **

// _What was that?_ //No answer. Harry blinked, caught in the middle of smiling at the reluctance of Severus’ last statement, and realised that he couldn’t hear the secondary murmur of Severus’ background thoughts any more.

“What was that?”

“I’m not certain. But it seems to have accomplished what we’ve been trying to do this week. At any rate, much to my relief, I cannot hear your every thought any longer.”

“You mean, the bond was pushing us so that we’d admit that we like each other?” He knew he sounded frankly disbelieving.

“It sounds ridiculous, does it not? I can’t think of another logical explanation, however, despite the fact that I can hardly think of a worse way to make people confess their feelings for each other.” Severus sounded quite taken aback.

“Well it worked, didn’t it?” A pause. “I’d kind of gotten used to our other conversations, though.”

“One way to test that.” // _Harry?_ //

// _Yes…_ //

“Well, we’ve established that it still works, but it’s under some control now. I didn’t overhear anything when I reached out. I’m still aware of your location and general state though.”

“Yes.”

“This is interesting.” Oh no. He was going into research mode.

// _Not now, please. I’m still trying to come to terms with the fact that we admitted to liking each other. And that the bond sorted itself out because of that._ //

Laughter underneath. This development certainly had improved his mood. // _Very well, Harry. Perhaps tomorrow?_ //He actually sounded slightly hopeful.

// _Tomorrow._ //


	15. February 27th

Harry looked up from what had become ‘his’ seat as the door opened and Severus entered. His bondmate looked at him in some surprise. “What are you doing down here now?”

“I… just wondered what you were doing, so I thought I’d come down and see.”

Severus crooked an eyebrow at him. Harry had been doing that a great deal in the last month, just wandering down to see him even when he was supposed to be free. Although their tutoring sessions had continued – at somewhat less regular intervals – in order to keep up appearances, Harry had miraculously not earned any detentions of late. However, he seemed to want to spend time here. With him. Even knowing that the boy liked him, considered him a friend – they’d had that discussion not too long ago – it was an astonishing thought to him.

“At the moment, I intend to do nothing much except have a cup of tea and recover from the horrors of fifth-year Ravenclaws and Gryffindors.”

“I distinctly remember you saying nothing could be worse than a first-year Gryffindor and Slytherin class.”

“I hate to admit it, but I was wrong. So very wrong.” Harry grinned at the rueful tone. “Give me a healthy rivalry over the deadly combination of know-it-alls and foolish bravery any day.” He sighed heavily, and Harry laughed out loud at the put-upon expression on his face. “After I have recovered somewhat, I need to make some potions for the infirmary. Poppy’s been harassing me for the last week. So, unless you wish to help me, I suggest you leave soon.”

“I think I can cope with being an assistant for a while.”

“Ah, a challenge!”

“Indeed. Lead on, MacDuff!”

“Someone’s been revising Muggle Studies.”

“Why, how could you tell?” Loading on the sarcasm.

“I think you’ve been spending too much time around me.”

A noncommittal shrug. “Maybe.”

***

Severus gave a sigh of pure relief as he turned from dispatching the last set of bottles to the infirmary. “Thank goodness that’s over with. Excepting a disaster of truly biblical proportions, I shouldn’t have to do that again for another few months.”

Harry cleared his throat meaningfully. “Oh yes. Thank you, Harry.”

“You’re welcome.” He could detect a hint of a sardonic tone in Harry’s voice.

He led the way into the living room again. Once Harry had taken his seat, he produced another pot of tea that he’d kept in readiness, knowing that he’d want it.

Pouring for them both, he said, “You never did give me a reason why you were here. And why you come down when you have no obligation to do so. After all, the bond seems to be almost perfectly under control now.”

“I, well, I was kind of. Lonely. Without you to talk to.”

If he hadn’t been practiced at controlling his expression, he rather suspected that his eyebrows would be crawling into his hairline and his mouth would be hanging open. The boy couldn’t have just admitted that he was lonely without him. It was impossible. “I’m amazed, Mr. Potter. Surely you have friends.”

“Uh, yes. But, well, none of them are you.” The boy looked positively scarlet with embarrassment. Hardly surprising, considering this latest bizarre confession of his.

“I think that you are getting entirely too attached to me, Harry.”

“Maybe, but…”

“No, listen to me. I am more than happy to be your friend, if you want it, but you should not be seeking out my company like this. I’m…” he cut himself off.  _Not young enough. Not pure enough. Not nearly good enough for you… to be a friend, or anything else. Certainly not anything else. Never that._ He had never been happier to have his control back. The boy would run screaming in terror if he were to overhear that set of thoughts.

A tentative contact, a feeling of determination. “I… think I” // _could love you_.// Complete honesty.

***

Silence. Far too long. He was supposed to say something. His mind felt filled beyond capacity with those few words the boy had uttered. ‘ _I think I could love you._ ’ They reverberated inside his head as if they had been a gong struck within it.Finally, he made himself speak.

“Harry. What you’re feeling, it’s not real. The bond is making you feel this way, that’s all.”  _That must be it, surely._

“I feel it. That makes it real.” Severus watched as the boy – only a boy, too young to know what he was doing to him – took a deep breath, closing his eyes in a clear bid for control. “Tell me you don’t feel it too. Tell me that all your control and reserve can make it go away.”

Grateful for decades of practice in lying. “I feel nothing. For you. There’s nothing I need to make go away.” The boy was untouchable, for countless reasons. Far beyond his feeble reach.

Somehow they had come to be standing very close, Severus glaring down into the boy’s eyes, willing him to believe the denial, to leave even if it meant storming out in anger, to not make the mistake of loving him, or fooling himself into thinking that he loved him. Harry searched his eyes for something, his expression a mixture of pleading and something close to anger. Severus concentrated on keeping his hard-won shields up. Letting the boy see what he really felt would only lead to disaster.

“I don’t believe you.”

Harry kissed him, a hand tangled in his hair pulling him down so he could meet Severus on tiptoe.  _Like my dream_ , thought Severus, distantly. That wonderful, painful dream he’d had five and a half months ago and couldn’t help but think of at the strangest of times afterwards. And then he couldn’t think at all, just concentrate on the feeling of Harry’s lips brushing against his. Soft, sweet, innocent, glorious. All the clichés sprang to his mind, all reminding him that clichés only gain that status because they are so true.

He gasped involuntarily, and Harry took instinctive advantage of it, sweeping his tongue into Severus’ mouth. // _Oh god._ // The meticulously placed barriers were crumbling so fast. He couldn’t tell whose thought that had been. Severus closed his eyes and gave in. Where had the boy learned to kiss like that? The wave of jealousy provoked by that stray thought made him stagger. Or maybe it was the feel of his tongue in Harry’s mouth – when had that happened? – and their arms clutching each other, and the muscled back under his hands that was stealing his balance and his sanity all in one.

// _I love you._ //

They broke apart, breathing harshly, Severus’ eyes still closed.

“Lily…”

The blow, open-handed, with true rage behind it, took him completely by surprise.


End file.
